of ringtones and facades
by daylighters
Summary: getting drunk around him may have been a bad idea. but really, did he have to set summer nights as his ringtone? [snowbarry one shot.]


**author's note:** set post-1x12 ; _crazy for you_. total fluff. the epitome of fluffiness. fluff, fluff, fluff.

. . .

It's been a few days since she completely humiliated herself, and she would like to think she's handling it rather well.

Honestly, most of the night is a total blur to her. She vaguely remembered starting a tab at the bar, remembered drinking from a glass that definitely wasn't hers, she recalled the nausea she had just barely suppressed as Barry ran her to her apartment in a flash (no pun intended). And oh-

She most certainly remembered the karaoke bit.

If she could erase any part of that evening from her memory, it would be that part, no contest. She was a terrible singer, unable to carry even the slightest of tunes. In fact, she predicted she sounded like a howling cat in heat at her best, and she was certainly not at her best while highly intoxicated.

There was one bright side. Barry hadn't brought it up again since the following morning, and that had been expected. Maybe he had even forgotten.

(The thought of him forgetting anything about that night filled her with a pang, which she tried her best to ignore. It wasn't like it was special. Also, it was quite hypocritical for her to dislike the thought of him forgetting when she herself could barely recall most of it.)

And so she entertains the idea of him forgetting their little duet, or at least letting it go. She entertains it once it's been a few days and she's nearly certain he would have brought it up now if he was planning on doing so. She entertains it once she can almost look back on that night without feeling the urge to hide under a pile of blankets for the rest of her life.

"Morning, Caitlin," Barry greets her as she enters the cortex, a cup of warm coffee in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She nods her hello to him, scrolling through texts on her phone from Cisco with furrowed brows.

From what she gathered from his incoherent texting was that Cisco watched a movie that emotionally wrecked him. Why he _texted her_ about it, she couldn't imagine. But okay.

She takes her usual seat at her desk filled with computers and various other tech. She drinks from her usual order of coffee. She reads the usual texts from Cisco that leave her confused. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

Until Barry's phone begins to ring.

It takes her a minute to recognize the tune. All she knew was it was familiar, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why. Also, rather old-fashioned, compared to the music trending nowadays.

Then John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John start to burst into song, and Caitlin nearly dies on the spot.

"Oh my _God_ ," she groans, covering her face with her hands. She can hear his laughter, steadily building, and resists the urge to depart from the room as quickly as possible. Knowing him, he would probably just catch up with her anyway. "Oh my God, no, please tell me you didn't-"

"Set it as my ringtone?" he finishes smugly. "Oh, but I did."

"I hate you."

"That's not what you said that night."

In an abrupt movement, Caitlin drops her hands, her eyes frantically meeting his. She can feel the embarrassment burning deep down inside of her, threatening to overwhelm her as she tries to recall the events of that evening better. It was all a bit of a blur for her. " _What_?"

Barry blinks, before finally realizing the improper implication in what he had said. "Oh, God, no, I didn't mean it like that!" he says hurriedly, scratching the back of his neck. "I just meant- well, you were complimenting me a lot."

This time, Caitlin blinks. Once, twice, three times. "Okay," she says at last. "What kind of compliments?"

If he winces slightly, she pretends not to notice. "Oh, you know, nothing too bad. Just, um, some stuff about how I'm fast and I can sing, and, uh-" There's obviously something he's not telling her. He refuses to meet her gaze, instead feigning interest in literally anything else in the cortex.

"Barry."

"Yes, Dr. Snow?"

They had passed the official, professional terms long ago, usually only using them in playful situations. Another way she knew he was holding something back from her; something potentially humiliating. "Tell me what I said."

"I don't really-"

"Barry Allen," Caitlin says sharply. He winces again from the reprimand, but at least his eyes finally meet her curious gaze. There's embarrassment written across his expression, too, and she begins to wonder just how bad it really was. " _Tell me._ "

He lets out a low exhale, briefly ducking his head. She's started to notice this is a frequent nervous habit of his, and her own nerves begin to steadily grow stronger. "All right, all right. Uh . . . you had me help you out of your dress. Save you from it, you said."

She flushed a brilliant shade of red. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I didn't look!" he insists immediately, holding his hands up in apparent surrender. Although what he was surrendering to or from, she had no idea. "I promise. But um, you said it would, um, be okay."

"Be okay?" She really doesn't like where this is heading.

"Yeah, um, okay. If - if I _had_ taken a peek." If she's blushing, it's nothing compared to the flush creeping up his neck, coloring his cheeks as he ducks his head for the second time. He can't meet her eyes, and she doesn't exactly blame him.

Well, this is mortifying.

"Oh my God," she whispers in horror. "I _said_ that?" Her voice is heightening its pitch, rising to a sound of pure hysteria.

They're supposed to be co-workers, set on protecting Central City from all kinds of evil. Even if they are friends, close friends, Caitlin Snow is not supposed to hit on Barry Allen. Barry, who is in love with Iris West. Barry, who is entirely adorable and lovable and also entirely untouchable.

Barry, who is the Flash.

Oh, this really wasn't good.

Eventually, he nods, breaking the sudden stillness of the atmosphere. "Yeah, yeah, you did. Um, if it makes you feel any better, you said it was because of all the so-called good stuff that I do. So it isn't like you were, ah, flirting with me. Kind of."

"How could that possibly make me feel better?"

He throws his hands up in either exasperation or mortification, possibly both, still not quite meeting her eyes. She vaguely wonders if he'll bring himself to face her any time soon. "I don't know! I just figured it was a good thing that you weren't hitting on me."

"So it would be a bad thing if I had been flirting with you?" She's an adult, considerably mature and undeniably intelligent. She knows better than to overreact over tiny comments, but she can't help but feel stung from the implication.

Would it be a bad thing simply because he was so hopelessly in love with Iris? Or did it have to do with Caitlin specifically? She didn't think she really wanted to know.

Barry drags his hand down his face, letting out another deep exhale. This was clearly putting him under some stress, though she can't imagine why. Since it's so good she wasn't flirting with him.

(She's totally not bitter.

Totally.)

"No, I didn't mean to say - ah, imply that. No, it would be fantastic if you were hitting on me-" Barry cuts off, teeth latching into his bottom lip. He looks up at the ceiling, as if it would magically hold all of the answers he's searching for. "This is going all wrong, isn't it?"

In spite of herself, Caitlin chuckles. "You could say that."

There's a moment of silence between them, perhaps mourning a time where they were not too horrified to look each other in the eye. Barry is the first to break it, as he typically is. "There was some other stuff you said. If you want to hear it."

"I'm not sure I want to." And she isn't.

"It isn't bad. I promise."

Caitlin contemplates it. At least she would know all of the details if he did inform her. She nods, with obvious reluctance. "Okay. What other things did I blurt out while highly intoxicated?"

She isn't certain if she's imagining things or not, but the tension seems to ebb away between them, replaced with a lightheartedness that was oddly reassuring. "Well, there was this girl. Linda." He pauses, and she gestures for him to continue, so he does. "She assumed you were my girlfriend."

She lets out a startled squeak at that. Barry starts, concern clear in his green eyes, which she doesn't exactly notice. _Girlfriend_. "When was this?"

"Oh, y'know, after . . ." he trails off, gesturing to his phone. She fills in the blank easily: _after the karaoke_. She wonders if he's ever going to let her live that one down. "You went to the bathroom, so Linda approached and ah, assumed we were a thing."

"What did you tell her?" It's an idiotic question. Of course he told her that, no, that crazy drunk woman was most certainly not his girlfriend. But for an instance, she can't help but wonder. She has to know.

Barry falters, and she gets her answer. "I told her we're just friends. Was I - was I supposed to say something else?" The unasked question rings throughout his inquiring tone. _Are we more than friends?_

She doesn't know the answer to that yet, so she shakes her head. "No, no, of course not! So let me guess. She gave you her number?" She hopes he doesn't catch the slight edge in her voice.

But it's him, and he's horribly perceptive. She knows he catches it, but also knows he won't call her on it. This whatever between them is too new, too terrifying for either to acknowledge. Yet. "Yeah, yeah, she did. And when you and I got back to your place . . ."

She swallows hard at that. It sounds so casual. _When you and I got back to your place_. So natural that it made her heart ache that to be something more than just a good friend helping her home while she was drunk. "Yes?"

"You asked me if I was going to call her." The smugness is back in his tone, but it's subtle, nearly overshadowed by the hesitancy also present. "You almost sounded-"

Caitlin coughs falsely, not willing to let him finish that sentence. She covers her mouth, forcing out another pitifully unconvincing cough, before gesturing for him to continue. Barry takes the hint, and swiftly changes the subject.

"And you asked me to stay with you," he says softly. Finally, _finally_ their eyes meet at that, and she swears she feels a jolt of electricity flash through her. No pun intended. "Until you fell asleep, that is."

Caitlin bites her lower lip. A bad habit of hers, usually done when she was bothered by something. She hates to think she scared him off. "And did you?"

Barry nods immediately, but there's something else in his expression, something indistinguishable and hidden. She thinks back to the morning, when she had awoken hungover with a massive headache. She could have sworn her curtains blew despite the windows being closed.

As if he had flashed out of there right as she had woken up.

Meaning he had stayed the whole night.

Caitlin opens her mouth, perhaps to question him about it to see if she's being ridiculous or not, but his phone rings for a second time. The tune of _Summer Nights_ fills the quiet cortex until he answers, the call brief. When he slips his phone into his pocket, Barry glances over at her.

"Joe needs me at the CCPD." Saved by the phone call, she presumed. "I gotta-"

"Go," she finishes, giving him a halfhearted smile. "Don't let me stop you."

Barry smiles back, and it's fills her with such a sense of familiarity that she remains firmly in place even after he's long gone, chewing on her lower lip a bit harder.

If they were supposed to put on a facade and act like nothing had changed between them, they were both doing a horrible job at it.


End file.
